Every winter, when I clean out my closet for the Listen center, I see the pants. They’re bright green. They’re skin tight. And they’re covered with shamrocks. They’re hideous, really, but I can’t part with them.
They’re my shuffling pants.
The Shamrock Shuffle is a 5K race around Colburn Park in Lebanon. It’s a fundraiser for the city’s youth programs. I first ran the race about a decade ago, when a friend from Lebanon recruited me to join her. The event organizers did an amazing job — in 2017 the event won the New Hampshire Recreation and Parks Association’s Rowland “Kim” Perkins Award for special event programming — and since that first run I’ve committed to the shuffle, rain, snow, sleet or shine. (I’ve run the race in shorts and a T-shirt, as well as full winter gear.)
I’ve been a runner for quite some time. My first ever race was the 2002 Ottawa Marathon. I completed the course but decided that I never need to run 26.2 miles again. After the marathon, I dabbled in more local races, including the CHaD Hero Half Marathon in Hanover. I enjoyed the camaraderie of hitting the pavement. I reveled in the energy of breaking a sweat. And I found joy in raising money for local causes.
But as life became busier, race training was put on a back burner. I didn’t have as much time on Sunday mornings to jog eight miles over the Connecticut River and back. My running partner (my Labrador retriever) was slowing down, and my own body was taking longer for recovery.
So I found shorter races, which satisfied my need for (some) speed. I committed to the Shamrock Shuffle and the Norwich Turkey Trot. For the past 10 years, I’ve been running these holiday races, missing them only for out-of-town engagements. Both races cover distances of 5 kilometers. Both are filled with runners (or walkers) of all shapes, sizes and abilities. And in both races, finishing doesn’t matter much.
But considering I’m half-Irish, the Shuffle has special significance. When I was growing up, my mother would take our St. Patrick’s Day celebration incredibly seriously. (Even the toilet bowl water was dyed green with food coloring.) Every March 17, our family celebrated with corned beef, parades, and “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” buttons. We didn’t miss an opportunity to wear green and flaunt our heritage.
But as an adult, the Shamrock Shuffle has become my tradition. Although the event doesn’t always land on St. Patrick’s Day, the run becomes the holiday. It’s the time for me to don my ridiculous shamrock leggings. It’s the time for me to remember my Irish grandparents, who likely would have volunteered with registration if they were alive today.
And, mostly, it’s a chance to celebrate with family and friends at the finish line.
A friend is turning 50 this year and is hoping to finish 5K runs in all 50 states in the next decade. I’m inspired by her gusto. But for now, committing to two races a year (one in New Hampshire and one in Vermont) keeps me on my toes. It doesn’t matter if I run fast. It doesn’t matter if I need a water break (or four). It doesn’t matter if I run in shorts or shamrock-covered spandex.
What does matter is that I just keep shuffling — rain, snow, sleet or shine.
Becky Sabky lives in Norwich.